Dark Waltz
by LunaCangiante
Summary: It wasn't that Booker said he couldn't dance. Just that he didn't.


Dang it, don't you hate it when you're listening to music and another idea pops up. Because this is the only explanation I have for this one. And I'll always believe there needs to be some Pre-Infinite Goodness for reasons I've already explained. So without further ado, I bring you a quick one-shot because pickles. MOVING ON…

Disclaimer- I own nothing.

Warning: Sexy good times.

"Dance with me Booker," it wasn't a request. Hell half of the reason he loved her so much, was Annabelle Watson's (very soon to be DeWitt) fiery nature. She told him what to do and he'd better do it, or else. Or else what? Or else she'd manipulate him until he was willing to give him what she wanted. It's what made them work, he was the type who got what he wanted with intimidation while she worked silently in the back. Either way, they made a hell of a dynamic duo.

"I don't dance," was the typical answer and this was no different. He flinched as the soprano squealed out in some other language. Whatever it was, it sounded too intense for his brain after another bottle littered his desk. He was beginning to regret that he'd ever bought her a phonograph, he thought it would keep her busy while he was gone. Apparently, she chose to play it whenever she damn well pleased, not taking into account her fiancé's pounding head.

Anna puffed in annoyance but sat down on their bed, her arms folded under her breasts, her full lips curled out in a pout as she glared at him. He chuckled at her childish display, knowing full well what she was trying to accomplish with that minxish look. His left hand found the small of her back without even looking while his right one went to her thigh. She knew just what turned him on, and he'd be a damn fool to not accept the invitation.

Which was why he was a bit surprised when she shrugged off his advances.

"I don't make love before marriage," Anna turned her nose upward, but he didn't miss her smug smirk when she looked back at him.

"Oh really," Booker said evenly as he reached and pulled her back towards him. "Then what exactly happened last night? Or the night before?"

"I don't recall," she answered with faux outrage. "You must be thinking of another woman."

"I doubt it," he replied coolly. He pressed the tip of his nose into her neck, eliciting a few giggles. The sound, the smell, the feel, even the taste of her drove him to insanity. The kind of insanity that allowed her to listen to the shrieking soprano without him breaking that goddamn phonograph.

They stayed like that for a while, until she sighed. Booker almost repeated that action, but stopped his self, knowing she was still pouting that he wouldn't dance with her. He glanced behind him, seeing their curtains – or what was left of them anyhow – would block out any outsiders from looking in, and they were also veiled by the night-sky. What would it hurt to give her what she wanted just once? The soprano answered his question.

"Alright," he finally broke. "If I dance with you, you have to do something about this goddamn record. I'm gonna smash that thing."

Anna looked back at him like she'd been hearing things. Did he really say what she thought he did? Booker, willingly dance with her? Such a thing was so unheard of, she didn't know if she should mark it down somewhere that Booker was actually willing to dance.

"If you dance with me, I'll give you a hammer to smash it!"

"Deal!"

With a gleeful cry Annabelle leapt out of bed. She carelessly tossed the record to the side and put in another one. This one had no words, and was Booker ever thankful for that. A slow waltz dragged on, it was easy enough to count. 1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3 – Booker counted in his head. He could do this, he's done much harder things in his life he couldn't really imagine why this one seemed so bad.

"I'm not very good at this," he admitted sheepishly as he put one hand on her waist and the other he held up for her. Anna was too tickled to care. He spun her around the tiny apartment, focusing way too hard to actually enjoy the act. When he finally got the hang of it, he finally saw his fiancé, the way she beamed so happily. How could something so simple, bring out such joy in her? The way her eyes shined brighter, reflected by the low lights in the apartment, or how her hair hung messily around her shoulders carelessly unlike the tight bun she normally kept it in. Every now and again she'd giggle, though not in a way that made him feel like she was judging him, but rather like a giddy schoolgirl.

She was beautiful. But it was more than just the aesthetic beauty he'd seen every day, but rather something different, something more than that. He'd heard about 'inner beauty' and 'on the inside what really counts' but being that his job called him to work around such ugly people he never understood what that meant – until he twirled Anna around their room. 'Our room,' he thought suddenly terrified of the idea. 'She's going to be with me for a long time. What if she sees something different?'

"You're doing fine," she breathed when they started slowing down. When they stopped, she frowned. "What's wr-?"

She was stopped by his lips on hers. Booker almost sighed in relief when she kissed him back with as much passion, possibly more? Her fingers wrapped around his shirt, as she tugged him closer making it very clear he wasn't going anywhere. Not that he wanted to in any hurry, he was more than content to kiss her until she was content. No, no not content, until she was happy.

He led them to their bed. Small, but the way they slept didn't need much room. He helped her out of her dress and slip, until she was naked and waiting for him. He didn't keep her waiting long, too taken with the woman who had – somehow or another – agreed to be his wife, he didn't have time to be hung up on his own insecurities. He joined her on the bed, he was about to ask her what she was doing when she began to take the lead. She sat on top of him victoriously, as though she'd tamed a wild horse. He had to admit she got him, though he wasn't complaining.

Her hips rotated in a very calculated rhythm, grinding his erection with her slick pussy as she teased him. She was already soaking wet, and all he had to do was dance with her?! His thought was interrupted by her hand grabbing his cock and jerked it slightly. Booker involuntarily gasped, he had to admit he'd never seen this side of her before. He decided he very much enjoyed it as he watched her guide his self inside her.

Most nights Booker led with experience and since Annabelle still had much to learn, she was submissive in letting him have his way with her. It was their norm, but he certainly didn't mind giving her the lead as she rode him. His hands grabbed her hips as he moved her along when her legs began to tire. She wasn't exactly used to such a strenuous motion. She smirked guiltily as if to thank him though if he noticed, he didn't care. Her back arched much more freely unrestricted by the bed causing her chest to push forward and her breasts to bounce easier. He didn't know how much longer he was going to last if she continued this way. She repeated his name like an obsessive chant as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge. He brushed her clitoris, needing her desperately to cum before he made a complete embarrassment out of his self. The free hand that had gone to brush the long brown locks out of her face, grabbed a fist full of her own hair as she squealed and clenched tightly. Too tightly.

With a growl, Booker came inside her. She fell forward onto his chest, with a long breath and a smile. She was happy, and he was happy that she was happy. After a minute, when she'd finally caught her breath, she laughed. "See, dancing's not so bad after all."

He nodded in agreement with her, lacking the energy to do much else.

"Can I expect another dance soon?"

"Is it gonna end like tonight?"

"Maybe."

"Then maybe," he smirked when she smacked him playfully. They lay together contently, a question Booker had been longing to ask finally came up. "Alright, where the hell did you learn to do that?"

"Do what? What we were just- Oh! I don't really know," she scratched the back of her head nervously. "I overheard some of my friends talking about it, their husbands learned about it from the whores, and I thought I would try it. Did you not like it?"

"No I just laid there and took it because I hated it. So did you ask one of them whores how to do it?"

"No! Booker! For God's sake!"

"What, I just wanted to know. Didn't know if maybe I should be paying a tutor… Or funding this expedition."

"I don't know," she laughed. "I just figured it was kind of like dancing, only I lead and you followed."

He grunted in response, it was certainly something to think about. Either way, he didn't mind it one bit, not one bit at all. They were about to drift to sleep until a shrieking voice filled their apartment and Booker groaned in annoyance.

He really hated that god damn thing.

(A/N: Yay, I can't sleep. It's short, it's sweet, it's to the point. Also bare with me if it's not the best. I just had surgery and I've been a little loopy from the painkillers. It's a big reason I haven't posted the newest Nanny. You all know the drill. Read, review, and remember: I love you!)


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